Alone Time

Last night, my husband took the girls to his brother's football game. I didn't want to go because I still can't shower (armpit can't get wet) and even if I could shower, I can't lift my arm high enough to dry and brush my hair (I look and smell REALLY good these days). Anyway, so Baby Rhett and I had the whole night to ourselves. To be honest, and I can't believe I am saying this, I wasn't really needing time to myself because my husband has been home from work since Wednesday (it was supposed to be our romantic vacation) this week helping to take care of the kids, so I've had plenty of time to read, sleep or zone out whenever I pleased. So I decided to do things I really couldn't do with the girls here.
I folded laundry without Reese unfolding each piece. I picked up toys and organized books without them being strewn all over the place again. I fed Rhett and we had a nice laugh together. We watched all the Dr. Phils and Oprahs on DVR. Finally, he went to bed and I decided to spend some much-needed primping time on myself.

But as it turns out, my tummy was hurting a bit. A lot, actually. Probably all the antibiotics (or the Zesty Nacho Doritos) in my system. At any rate, I was a little bummed because I was completely alone and I had my whole evening planned and it didn't involve any real time on the toilet. But I read Redbook and then I was fine and decided to put on a mask and take a bath. My husband called about 4 minutes into my bath, so I got out, dried off and decided I might as well give myself a mani-pedi. But then my tummy was acting up again. Ever the multi-tasker, I decided to kill two birds with one stone. I decided to do my pedicure on the potty. Weird, sure, but lots of brilliant ideas seem weird at first, right? I did the pedi. It looks fabulous and I felt good about not wasting any time. But I was still there. And I kind of felt like I would be there quite a while longer. So I decided to move on to the mani. And it was great, too. No mistakes because I could really concentrate. I didn't really think the whole thing through and had to re-do my right hand, but still. At least I didn't waste the whole night, right?

All in all, I'd say the night was a success. Two Vicodin, night moisture cream for my face and body butter for my newly painted feet and I was ready for a good night's sleep.
I told my husband about my night and my improvisation concerning the potty. He had an idea even more stupendous than the Potty Pedi. LAPTOP IN THE BATHROOM. He really has it all thought out, too....folding desktop on the wall that comes down like an ironing board. Brilliant minds think alike. Or do we just spend WAY too much time on the toilet?